


The Dark Ritual

by FenrisKin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Accidental Bondage, Angry Sex, Bloodletting, F/M, Magic Bondage, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:32:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3362828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenrisKin/pseuds/FenrisKin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elessa Mahariel and Alistair Theirin have been offered a way out of their death sentence as Grey Wardens. Can Alistair put his love for Elessa aside and go through with it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark Ritual

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I already posted this but the sex was fucking TERRIBLE so I did it again and reuploaded it. I feel like the sex is better this time. Angrier, more in keeping with their bitchy relationship.
> 
> Fuck, writing smut when you're ace is hard.

_“_ _You have got to be kidding me.”_

_His mouth was hanging open slightly, eyes creased slightly to make his confusion adorable. She was glad he didn't have a face for negative emotions; she didn't think she could stand to see it marred like that. Slowly she shook her head._

“ _I'm not. Please, you know I wouldn't ask if I didn't think she could do it.” She felt sick, sick to her stomach at the thought, but sicker still was the feeling of spending the rest of her short life without the man before her. After Rioardan's bombshell she knew he had made the decision to take the final blow if it came to that, and she couldn't stand how damn selfless he was Her eyes began watering and she furiously blinked away the tears so he wouldn't see her like this, wouldn't see her weak and afraid. His hand on her cheek, then arms going around her, told her she'd failed. Of course he noticed. He noticed everything._

“ _Hey, it's alright. I mean, Riordan-”_

“ _What if he doesn't? What if something happens? There's a whole_ _horde_ _to get through, the chances of him making it- Alistair, I can't lose you, ma vhenan, ma abelas-” and then he was kissing away her worry, kissing away tears that had started to flow again, kissing her so softly she thought she'd burst._

“ _I'll do it.”He was saying. “If you can still love me, I'll do it. I can do anything knowing that you love me.” He wet his lips. “Ar lath ma, Elessa.” She laughed; his pronunciation was all wrong but his heart was there and she loved him for it, she loved him, she loved him, she loved him._

“ _I will love you even should Uthenara take me.”_

 

* * *

 

He still hadn't taken his armour off when he came to her door. His expression was unhappy, but his jaw was set.

“This ritual, it'll save her?”

Morrigan resisted the urge to laugh; it would not do for Alistair's stubbornness to end the ritual before it began. “It will save you all, provided you do not perish at the hands of the darkspawn.” Alistair nodded, very obviously processing her words.

“And this child...” she tensed; she had not expected Elessa to be so honest. “You won't bring it back to challenge Anora's rule? She'll be a good queen-”

“She would never have been as beloved as you, even if you had been a terrible king.” Alistair's mouth snapped closed, teeth faintly clicking together. “But no, this child is mine, and mine alone. Neither you, nor Anora, nor your beloved have anything to fear.”

His shoulders dropped then, as some worry left him. Oh, he was still unhappy, but she could see that her words had helped him deal with what he was about to do. _Ever the_ _selfless and_ _honest one,_ she thought. _My, what the templars could have been had you stayed._

“No child will be safer, with someone as terrifying as you as a mother,” he quipped. Morrigan felt the breath whoosh out of her as surely as if he'd snuffed her magic. He had never- why was he doing this? Why now? What did he possibly have to gain?

_It doesn't_ _matter_ _._ She pulled herself together with a mental shake, and smiled seductively at him.

“Well, how shall we go about making this easier for you, hmm?” His face paled and she laughed again. “Tis not every day a woman has to strip armour as well as clothes away to get to her desires.”

The confusion spread across his face as she realised what she said. “I'm sorry, your _what_ now?”

“Tis merely a figure of speech in an effort to make you feel more comfortable.” She snapped, thankful she wasn't a blusher. Closing her eyes she tried to calm herself. It was infuriating that he had this effect on her. How often had she heard their fumblings as they camped? How often had she changed her form to something that couldn't hear so painfully loudly just so she could get a decent nights sleep? She was sure she'd stopped wishing it was her teaching him, even when it became painfully apparent that he no longer needed direction.

Opening her eyes again, she found Alistair watching her warily. He'd always been afraid of her despite his abilities, and now she was expecting him to shed all that as easily as she did and lay with her. She tried a smile again.

“Would it help if I wore another's face? Someone more desirable to you, perhaps?” And at a thought, the charm she'd prepared settled over her face and body, giving her the appearance of-

“No!” Alistair snapped, stepping back straight into the closed door. “Don't- please don't wear her face.” Morrigan let the glamour dissolve, and didn't hide her confusion.

“Why? Would it not be easier for you to pretend?” Alistair was shaking his head vigorously, speaking very fast, nearly too softly for her to hear.

“I know it's not her, I know her face, her body, the way she moves.” He was angry now, standing taller in his passion. “I know Elessa intimately, so if you tarnish her face for me like that, I'll leave now and die tomorrow.” He'd crossed the room to tower over her, and now his eyes bored into hers with a furious intensity. _He means it; best not to push._ Morrigan shrugged as nonchalently as she was able; he couldn't leave, not now, not when she was so close.

“No masks then. Just us.” His eyes bored into hers, green into gold, and she found she couldn't hold his gaze. Dropping her eyes, she started tugging at the buckles on his armour. “Who on earth comes dressed for war to a ladies bedchamber?” She muttered, with only a hint of her usual acidity. His laugh surprised her.

“In my defence, it is _your_ bedchamber. I've been afraid you'll eat me alive from day one.” She let herself laugh at that, really laugh, and finally let a small piece of him in. It was just the two of them, and he didn't really want this, but she was going to take what she could.

He helped her with some of the stiffer buckles as they stripped away his armour, piece by piece. Pauldrons came off first, followed by his gorget and the heavy Warden's breastplate – Duncan's, she remembered. Duncan's plate. A man he wished could have been his father. When his last piece of armour was set in the corner, tucked against the wall, she looked at him again.

She'd only seen him out of his armour once before, and he didn't even realise. He had gone to a nearby river to wash the darkspawn blood away. She had shifted to a hawk and taken wing under the pretext of keeping an eye out while their glorious leader was indisposed, and watched.

She had hated herself for watching, but she couldn't stop herself, and that night she had brought herself to a crashing orgasm at the thought of riding him.

“You know when I said I was worried you'd eat me alive? You have a very definite hungry look about you right now.” His dry voice brought her back. “Maybe I shouldn't take the rest of my clothes off, you won't be able to resist. Out comes the knife and the chopping board!” She realised his jokes were an attempt to cover up his self-consciousness at being without his armour around her. He shifted on his feet slightly, unsure of himself, that idiotic grin hovering just out of sight around the corners of his mouth, and, irrationally, she felt her familiar irritation at him rising.

“So...” when Morrigan didn't respond he tried for conversation again. “What is the process of this ritual, exactly?”

“I'll cut you, and cut myself, and combine our blood-”

“No!” Once again he startled her with the intensity of his anger. “Morrigan, my blood is tainted, if you mix our bloods, you'll get the Blight.” She blinked in surprise that he'd be concerned for her, and laughed.

“You idiot boy, the taint in your blood is why it has to be you!” His jaw clenched and a low growl escaped him as he grabbed her by the shoulders, backing her into the wall.

“ _Stop it_. Stop calling me an idiot, stop playing games with me, stop mocking me just for being a Templar and not understanding what you do!”

“You _are_ an idiot! But here, so you can understand it, _your highness:_ it'll take a lot more than the tainted blood of Calenhad's line to kill me!”

He kissed her. Her back against the wall, his hands gripping her shoulders so hard she knew she was bruising, his mouth came down onto hers with a force and intensity she hadn't expected.

She snaked a hand around his neck to twist her fingers into his hair, and his hands dropped to her hips, pulling her in against him, grinding his growing erection against her.

She broke away, breathing heavily, pulling his tunic up and over his head with an urgency she'd never felt before. _Old Gods help me, I've never been so wet._ He threw his tunic to one side and yanked at the ties holding her loose-fitting shirt on, and it slid off her shoulders like it was water. His hands found the ties to her skirt and as that dropped to the floor he was cupping her ass, lifting her off the ground as if she weighed nothing, pressing her back into the wall. She was so very aware of how strong he was, how if he wished he could sever her connection to the Fade and break her into so many small pieces. Gods, the thought turned her on. Her legs went around his waist and she kissed him fiercely, her hands running up his back. Her nails traced over his shoulders and he groaned into the kiss, one hand between them loosening the ties to his trews.

She could feel him there, feel his warmth against hers, and still he hesitated. She could feel herself tensing up, waiting for him to do it, her nails must be digging in to him painfully by now, _why isn't he-_

With a frustrated growl he was inside and oh, the way he filled and stretched her! Her breath left her as he pulled out almost all the way to slam back in. It hurt, but it was delicious and she moaned, biting down on his shoulder to suffocate the noise. He groaned in response and picked up the pace, bracing himself against the wall as he fucked her.

She could feel her orgasm building and it took all she had to gasp out “Stop, stop, not yet!” Miraculously, he listened, and pulled out with an effort, leaving her whimpering at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

Holding her against him, he backed away from the wall and carried her to the bed. Laying her down he propped himself up on his elbows over her and buried his face in her neck, nipping at her, leaving marks all along her pale skin. Slowly, they got their shaking bodies under control – judging from the way he was starting to relax, he hadn't been far either.

The moment was losing it's potency so she took control. Reaching out, she yanked him back up for another kiss, sucking his lip between her teeth, and she felt his weight settle onto her, cock back at her entrance. Sending out tendrils of force, she pulled him over onto his back and straddled him, holding herself over his cock.

Gods, she wanted him. Wanted to dominate him and own him, wanted him beyond this night, beyond this room. But she had a job to do, so she readied her force spells and muttered a quick charm that sharpened the nails on her hands to a diamond edge. His eyes were on her and he had to know what she was doing, had to feel it thrumming in the air around them, but he did nothing to stop her.

His hands were moving over her skin, tracing up her legs, running over her hip bones, travelling up to cup and squeeze her breasts. He ran a thumb over her nipple and she gasped – was everything about this man intense?

_Focus, Morrigan. You_ _have a job to do._

She clenched her fists, feeling the nails pierce her skin easily and blood beginning to flow freely. She leaned forward slightly to mark him, to start the Ritual properly, and his hands closed around her wrists, stopping her.

“Let me go, you foolish man! I know what I'm doing!” She snapped, and released the spells she had been holding. Ropes of force pried his hands off her and forced them upwards, over his head, binding his hands in place. He struggled, but couldn't break them with brute strength. Quickly she sent another spell to his feet, binding them in place as well. She didn't wait for him to clear his head enough to purge her magics and lowered herself onto him as she dug her nails into his chest. He stiffened, his back arching involuntarily at the sensation, driving himself deeper inside her. She felt their blood run together and she spat out the incantation, barely able to focus beyond the sensation of him inside her.

She couldn't stop herself from crying out at how much he filled her, the new angle stroking her to fresh heights. Oh, how she wanted to claw bloody furrows into his skin, mark him as hers, hers, hers, but the Joining couldn't be broken until it was over. So she rocked her hips against him, enjoying his guttural moans, pretending for these precious few moments that he was hers.

His hips bucked, burying his cock deep inside her, a wordless demand, and she obliged, rising and falling with his rhthym, rolling her hips as she came down, grinding her clit against him in a way that made her shiver in agonising pleasure. The orgasms they'd both denied earlier were rising again with a vengeance and they both knew it wouldn't be long now.

As if on cue, she felt him tensing up, and the pace picked up once again as he pistoned in and out of her. She gave herself over to him, letting him set the pace, sending the smallest tendril of heat down to her clit, to stroke where her hands could not, bringing her to a crashing climax in time to feel him spend himself inside her with a hoarse shout.

They slowed and stopped, panting, and Morrigan shakily recalled the final words to the ritual, pulling her hands away. She slid off him, whimpering at the sudden feeling of emptiness, and made her way on shaky legs to her washbasin. She washed and bound her hands, her nails now back to mundane bluntness. Soaking a cloth, she came back to him and gently cleaned the blood off him. A quick spell, and his skin was unmarked, as if nothing had happened, even the bite she'd left a memory.

“So what now?” His voice was subdued, but it lacked the fear it always held whenever he spoke to her. She smiled sadly.

“Now, you go back to your love, and tomorrow you'll both live.”

“Provided the Archdemon doesn't eat us.” He was back to his wry self, but his words brought a panic to her. She pulled him close until his head was inches from hers.

“You listen to me, Alistair Theirin. You _will_ survive. And if you don't,” Morrigan pulled on one of his ears sharply, making him wince. “I'll bring you back from the dead to make you wish I hadn't.”

 

* * *

 

_She was sat in front of the fire when he slipped back in, knees drawn up so her head rested on them. She made no move to get up and greet him, even though he knew she'd have heard him come in. Nothing escaped her._

_He hadn't bothered putting his armour back on, opting to just carry it back slung over his arm. He set it down gently and eased himself down next to her, waiting for her to say something._

_She sighed and leaned into him._

“ _You'll be safe tomorrow?” Not 'did it work?', just a need to know he wouldn't die._

“ _Apparently we both will. Morrigan's threatened to flay me alive if you die, and she'll bring me back from the dead to flay me if we both die.” She stiffened at Morrigan's name, but relaxed again, leaning into him. He slipped an arm around her and suddenly she was sliding into his lap, kissing him furiously._

_Their lovemaking was soft and slow, and they slept the soundest they ever had that night._

 

* * *

 

“Well, well. What have we here? A fool who hasn't grown out of his idiocy, ten years later?” The sensual drawl stopped his heart for a moment and he and Elessa turned slowly. The Witch hadn't aged a day. Benefits of being a witch, he supposed.

“Morrigan. I thought my apostate sense were tingling. Shouldn't you be off luring helpless young men to their doom?” Her tinkling laugh was more relaxed than he'd ever heard it, and he wondered what had changed.

“There's someone you should meet.”

 


End file.
